


Ostara

by Ivegotaheadlineforyou



Series: The Wheel of the Year [2]
Category: Hadestown - Mitchell
Genre: Eurydice doesn't die because I don't like ~sadness~, F/M, Fix-It, Fluff, Not Canon Compliant, Orpheus is a little shit and I love him, Orpheus' birthday, Post-Canon, Spring Time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-26 06:39:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19000393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ivegotaheadlineforyou/pseuds/Ivegotaheadlineforyou
Summary: “La, la la la la la,” she tried, but the sound felt metallic on her tongue. She didn’t have the crooning voice that her Orpheus had, and she was getting more and more frustrated as time went on.“Fuck, fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck,” she sang to the same tune, before she finally put the lyre down in front of her, frustrated at her lack of ability to play.***Spring is just around the corner, and Eurydice struggles with Orpheus' birthday present.





	Ostara

**Author's Note:**

> If Eurydice was born on the Fall Equinox, then Orpheus in my mind is born on the Spring Equinox.  
> Lots of self indulgent fluff between these two, featuring Orpheus sitting on a table, and being a general shit. I love them.  
> Eurydice curses a bit.
> 
> Not betad, because I don't have the patience for it.
> 
> Hadestown belongs to Anaïs Mitchell, god bless her soul.

 

Winter had been kind. It was winter, of course, and it was cold and dark, and windy at moments. But there were days with sun and snow, days when the ground was cold, but the sun was shining high. There were nights where the sky was lit up almost purple, as the winds moved slowly through the world. 

“You did good,” Eurydice said to him, washing some dishes and looking out at dusk that was falling. The snow had started melting earlier that day, and you could already see some patches of grass. Eurydice couldn’t remember a winter where she felt comfortable, not like she was on the brink of death at any moment. 

Orpheus, sitting cross-legged on their kitchen table, tuning his lyre, lifted his head. “What, with dinner? You made it,” he chuckled, continuing to pluck away at the strings.

“No, dummy,” she laughed. “With the seasons. With your song. We’re gonna have another spring.”

Orpheus looked up again. Her back was to him, but he could hear the smile in her voice. He didn’t need to look at her face to know that she would have that soft, sleepy smile on her face. He put his lyre down and climbed off the table, crossing over to where she stood, and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her into his embrace.

She smiled and leaned her head back against his shoulder, closing her eyes. He leaned his head against hers and took in a deep breath. He thought back to the first time he had ever held her like this — held the world in his arms. He could feel her breathing, could feel her heartbeat, and thanked the gods everyday that she had returned to him and to their world. That they were going to get to live in the world they had worked to make better.

“Your birthday is soon,” Eurydice said, swaying back and forth slightly on her feet. Orpheus kissed her temple and swayed with her. 

“You remembered.”

“Course I did.” She turned in his arms, changing their positioning so that one of her arms was wrapped around his waist. She took one of his hands in hers at the same time that he wrapped an arm around her shoulder. 

“How should we celebrate?” She asked, leaning her cheek on his chest. He smiled and kept them swaying.

“Just like this,” he whispered into her hair. “So long as I have my girl in my arms, and maybe some music, I’ll be happy.”

“Oh, come on. Nothing else?” She lifted her head to look at him. He shook his head. “Nothing at all?”

He smiled and leaned down to capture her lips in a sweet kiss. “Okay, maybe a little of that,” he said. “And maybe a lit bit of this,” he murmured against her lips. A wicked little flash appeared in his eyes, and he deepened the kiss and ran his hands down her back, cupping her ass. He couldn’t see, but he knew that she was rolling her eyes at him. He smiled wider against her lips at that — he loved to drive Eurydice a bit mad in spite of herself. 

“You’re such an asshole,” she mumbled against his lips with no real weight behind it. She let herself get carried away in his kiss, still swaying slightly with him as her hands came up to rest at the back of his neck. 

“Yeah, but you chose me,” he said.

“Woah there, buddy. _I_ chose _you?”_ She asked, pulling away from his kiss. “This coming from mister ‘come-home-with-me’? ” He laughed and held her close, a blush creeping across his cheeks.

“I might have said yes, but I think you did the choosing when you essentially proposed to me the first day we met,” she said with a smile on her face. He ducked his head down and let her go, putting both his hands in the air.

“Look…” he started, but had no excuse for his actions. Eurydice let out a big laugh and leaned back against the counter. 

“Got nothing to say for yourself, poet?” His blush deepened, and he struggled for the right words.

“We’re married, you’re not allowed to make fun of me!” 

“We’re not married! Stop telling people that we’re married,” she laughed and shook her head. 

“I mean, we might as well be.”

“And we will be,” she said, pushing off of the counter and going to run her fingers through his messy, wild hair. “We will be. And we’ll throw a big party, and we’ll eat and dance until our stomachs are full and our feet are sore and our hearts are light.” He smiled at her and kissed her softly.

“As wonderful as that sounds, you know I don’t need a big production,” he mumbled against her lips, bushing his nose against hers. She smiled and hummed in agreement. 

“I know you don’t need it,” she responded, looking into his eyes. “But it would be nice, wouldn’t it?”

“Yeah, it would be. But I just need you.”

***

One night, Orpheus was to be working the bar, and while Eurydice usually came along, often times hopping behind the bar just to keep herself occupied, she feigned sleepiness and stayed home. Once he was out of sight of their little cottage, Eurydice sat herself in the centre of their bed with Orpheus’ lyre. 

She had been spoiled by her poet and the Lady for her birthday, and she felt like Orpheus deserved people making a big production out of his birthday too. She wanted to do something special for him — cash was still tight, so new lyre strings would have to wait until another celebration. She had gotten the idea that she would play their song on his lyre for him. It wouldn’t be that tough, she though. She had watched him play so many times, and she thought that she should be able to pluck out something simple at least.

She sat cross legged, her fingers struggling to put the correct amount of pressure on the strings, and strum the way he always did. She wasn’t trying to play anything too crazy — just Orpheus’ song. She thought it would be nice to surprise him for his birthday, to be able to sing the song of their love back to him. Except she had had a hard time separating the boy from his instrument, and his birthday was now only a day away. 

To say that she was failing quite miserably would have been an understatement.

After she had strummed her fingers raw, coming too close to breaking skin, she gave up on the strumming to focus on playing the right chords. She sang along as she tried to play, their love song sounding mangled the way she played it.

“ _La, la la la la la,”_ she tried, but the sound felt metallic on her tongue. She didn’t have the crooning voice that her Orpheus had, and she was getting more and more frustrated as time went on.

“Fuck, fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck,” she sang to the same tune, before she finally put the lyre down in front of her, frustrated at her lack of ability to play. 

“Don’t stop now,” she heard a voice from the doorway say, and she yelped, almost jumping out of her skin. 

“Gods _dammit_ — Orpheus,” she said, hands clutched to her chest, looking up at him with a fire in her eyes. His face split open into a huge smile that was laced with something akin to concern.

“Oh, sorry!” he said through laughter, going over to the bed to sit beside her, his left leg touching her right. He was still laughing when she shoved his shoulder.

“ _Fuck_ , you scared the shit outta me,” she said to him, trying to catch her breath. “You’re supposed to be working, what are you doing here?” 

His shoulders still shook from laughter, and he took her hands in his and kissed her knuckles. “Mister Hermes sent me home — said that I should spend the night here, since Persephone’s coming home tomorrow. Now, you gonna tell me what you were doing?”

It was Eurydice’s turn to blush — it didn’t happen often, but her poet had heard her bastardisation of their song, of his song, and didn’t want to own up to it. She leaned in and pressed her forehead against his shoulder. “How much of that did you hear? Or see?” He smiled at her and squeezed her fingers.

“You were trying to play the song? Why?” 

She groaned, not wanting to admit failure, but did anyways: “I wanted to be able to play it for you for your birthday. It’s the first day of spring, and I wanted to sing you the song that you sang to bring spring back. It’s stupid, I know… I just,” she trailed off. She didn’t know how to treat him, how to spoil him like he constantly spoiled her. He always knew what to say, how to act. He always knew when to kiss, and hold, and feed, and step back, and she always felt like she was fumbling two steps behind. Orpheus was the son of a Muse, for gods sake. Who was she to even hold a candle to him? Some dumb run away who had done nothing but cause him pain?

She was broken from her internal reverie when Orpheus placed his fingers on her chin, lifting it up so that she was looking directly at him. “It’s not stupid,” he said, his eyes full of love and awe. Hearing her say those words made him feel like a hero — made him feel like he was worth a damn, even if he didn’t believe it fully. The same song that brought back the seasons, that made the kingdom of the underworld fall, was the song that almost lost her in the first place.

“Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I couldn’t figure out how to play it.”

“Would you let me teach you?” 

Orpheus’s voice was soft when he asked, and his face was bright and hopeful as he said it. “Let me teach it to you. Would you give me that for my birthday?”

“Orpheus, you don’t have to —“ He reached out and pressed his lips against hers, stopping her mid sentence. When he pulled back he was smiling.

“I want to teach you, ‘Rydice. It’s all I want.”

She looked up into those big beautiful eyes of his that hid nothing and she couldn’t help but smile.Gods, she was so wrapped around his finger it was disgusting. She used to be feral, a runaway looking for a warm meal and a match, and now look at her. Falling into the eyes of a soft boy with a song in his heart, and his heart on his sleeve. 

***

Persephone arrived the next day, bringing the first dredges of Spring with her. One of the first things on her agenda was to visit the birthday boy. They had lots to celebrate, and she wanted to get the festivities started. Hades had waited for her. Autumn had been successful. Winter was hard, but healing. And now it was finally spring, and it was the poet’s birthday.

She dropped her bags with Hermes, and as she approached the cottage where the lovers lived, she could hear someone playing the lyre. It wasn’t Orpheus, she knew that — the rhythm was off, as if someone’s hands and fingers had yet to learn the intricacies of the strings. She got close enough to look in one of the windows, and the sight she saw warmed her heart. 

Eurydice, cross legged on the floor with the lyre in her lap, was bracketed by Orpheus, sitting behind her, his arms wrapped around her. His fingers were guiding hers, showing her where to place them on the fretboard of the lyre, and his other hand was hovering over hers over the strings. 

Persephone watched as Eurydice, at a snails pace, started to pluck the strings with her right hand, Orpheus’ hand helping keep pressure on the frets. She recognised the tune, slow and choppy as it was.

“La, la la la la la,” Orpheus sang along slowly, Eurydice’s eyebrows furrowed in concentration while the player smiled at her. The transitions between notes were messy, and she often plucked the wrong strings. She played with as much precision that she had, but it was still not enough. The song, the one Eurydice knew so well, sounded foreign on her fingertips.

Once she had played the final chord, Orpheus wrapped an arm around her stomach and squeezed her close to him. “You’re doing well,” he exclaimed, pressing kisses to the side of her face. She blushed and leaned into his touch.

“You’re only saying that to make me feel better. It was terrible.”

“Oh, was not, ‘Rydice. You just need more practice.”

“You make it look so easy.”

“I’ve been playing a long time.”

“Well, good thing I’ve got a pretty good teacher, who’s quite attentive,” she said, leaning her forehead against his. “Happy birthday, my love.”

He smiled and pressed a solid kiss on her lips, the two of them shining brighter than the sun. Persephone, from her perch outside, knew that she shouldn’t be eavesdropping, but she couldn’t help herself. She watched them kiss for a minute more, before he pulled away, and placed his fingers upon the lyre again.

Eurydice sunk back into his chest, allowing her head to fall back into the crook of his shoulder and neck, and Orpheus’ lanky arms encircled her. He pressed another kiss to her hair as he began playing, giving their song the right speed and melody. It was smooth as silk, and warm as a bright summer day.

_I’ll see them later_ , she thought, and turned away. As she walked away, she heard the song that belonged to her and her husband as much as it belonged to the two young lovers. She could picture the sight in her mind — Eurydice sandwiched between Orpheus and his lyre, surrounded by the song of their love. She could imagine Orpheus’ glee, holding Eurydice so close, and singing right to her.

It was going to be a good spring.

**Author's Note:**

> UPDATE! The Amazing Anna, as she will now be known, did some BEAUTIFUL art for this fic!! It makes me so so happy Anna ily so much. https://passionslipsaway.tumblr.com/post/185550396362/you-just-need-more-practice-art-for-the-lovely
> 
> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoy this take on Orpheus' birthday. I do truly believe that all he wants is to spend time with Eurydice,  
> and be with her. Gods, I love them. 
> 
> SPEAKING OF: I SAW THE SHOW! I'm more in love with this show and with these characters than I ever have been. I cannot wait until the album comes out, and until I can see this a hundred more times.
> 
> Come shout with me on tumblr, and send me prompts! @IveGotAHeadlineForYou


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